


Void

by Leonidas1754



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Depression, Gen, No actual suicide but lots of thoughts about it, Pure negative feeling, Self-Harm, Seriously this fic is just, Stay safe please, Suicidal Ideation, Suicidal Thoughts, There's a lot of thoughts of suicide and a good bit of self-harm, Vent-fic, negativity, please take care of yourself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-21 06:41:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13735296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leonidas1754/pseuds/Leonidas1754
Summary: Keith wanted to die. Keith deserves to die.The universe isn't letting him just yet.(A vent-fic full of pure negative emotion)





	Void

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not gonna lie, I'm... probably not okay. I will be, just, not in this moment. Also hey, first ever fic not to have a happy or at least bittersweet ending! Yay..?  
> I dunno. Enjoy, maybe.

Keith can feel himself floating. A spatial void welcomed him with open arms.

He was going to die.

He wanted to die.

Raw emotion burned in him, threatening to tear him apart from the inside-out. He hated it. He hated himself. Everything burned. He was going to die. Just let him die, he was worthless, useless, he’d pushed everyone he loved away, he deserved to die alone, he deserved this. He was horrible, useless, worthless, selfish, unneeded, unwanted. He wanted to die, he  _ needed _ to die, just let him die  _ just let me die please I just want to die. _

There was no one there.

His eyes burned. Water down his cheeks. It was all he deserved. He pushed them away. They’d be better off without him. Lance was a better Red Paladin than he’d ever be. Shiro was more mature, Hunk was kinder, Pidge was smarter, Allura was more noble, Coran was wiser. They didn’t need him. It was selfish to think they’d ever need him, ever want him.

He was nothing. A speck floating in the vast void of a universe that didn’t give two shits about him. He’d starve or suffocate or get dragged into a gravity field of some nearby star or planet and die. And that would be the end.

He was going to be sick.

His heartbeat was steady, as was his breathing. The only oddity was the tears that seared acidic lines down his cheeks. He needed to die. He wanted to die. No one was coming for him. He was nothing. He was no one. He was meaningless.

Why couldn’t the others just have admitted they hated him. He knew he was just a burden to Shiro, to Hunk. Lance thought he was full of himself, and Pidge was just annoyed with him. Allura was too nice to admit she still hated him for his blood. Coran… Coran didn’t hate him. Coran was too good to hate anyone. He simply felt nothing for Keith.

Keith wanted to tell them none of them could hate him more than he hated himself. But then he’d be making it all about him again. An endless cycle of making them hate him more, of making him hate himself more.

Scars infested his legs, where people were less likely to find them. He didn’t deserve the help they’d force upon him if anyone had ever found them. He deserved the bruises and cuts and blood dripping from him. He didn’t deserve the life that flowed through him. He was a waste of space. He was a burden, an annoyance, a pest, a horrible person.

The universe would be better off without something like him around.

There were voices in his ears now, static and rough and panicked and scared and he spoke before he could even think.

_ ‘Let me die.’ _

The voices stopped.

It was getting harder to breathe. There was darkness at the edges of his vision, his breaths coming faster as his body tried to find the oxygen it needed in spite of his mind’s refusal of life. Someone else could make better use of it. The universe went dark.

Keith woke with a sharp gasp, sitting up in his bunk in the Blade of Mamora. He rubbed his face as he realized it had only been a dream. He nudged down his pants to look at his legs. All the deep red marks were still there. He ticked off another day with a sharp knife and a thin red line that began to drip the longer he stared at it.

He wanted to go home. To the house in the desert where he could listen to the wind and be alone. Where he didn’t bother anyone, where he wasn’t a burden on others, or a distraction, or a pest, or a waste. He wanted to go back to before, when what he now knew was the Blue Lion calling out to him would lull him to sleep.

Of course he hadn’t been able to find the Blue Lion on his own. It was just calling out to him because he was the closest to it, the one that could lead his real paladin to it. He was only a temporary need for Red, for Black. The others were so much better.

He was nothing.

Another red line appeared on his thigh. And another, and another, and another, and another, and another, and another, and another, and another, and another, and time felt like nothing and everything and every day and night was a slog of grey and purple and blurry shapes and static voices and the void of space closing in around him.

He wanted to die. He needed to die. Living was too much. Keith wasn’t enough.

Nothing was ever enough to fill the void inside him. A greedy, selfish void of nothingness enveloping his body and mind and soul until he was nothing more than grey and black and white and nothing and everything and it hurt and it was meaningless and red red red.

The universe didn’t let him go just yet.

_ ‘Please, just let me die.’ _

**Author's Note:**

> This is where I usually say "leave a comment" but honestly in this case I'm kind of scared of what people think of this one.  
> Eh, tell me anyways, my curiosity will always outweigh my fear, for better or worse.


End file.
